


A soldiers view

by Aguna91



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Au after the invasion, Gen, emotional vulnerable Nightwing, heroes to concerned with their own grieve, manipulative Deathstroke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aguna91/pseuds/Aguna91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Sacrifices are a necessary evil, every soldier worth their title know this. AU set after invasion features an emotional vulnerable Nightwing, heroes to concerned with their own grieve and a manipulative Deathstroke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nightwing was tired, it was becoming harder and harder to get up in the morning and face the world. On an objective level he knew what was going on, his friends were hurting from the pain of the loose they suffered. It was natural to make him into the scapegoat and turn their grieve into anger directed at him. So he smiled acted as if everything was alright, as if their looks and words had no effect on him, because that was what they needed. Even though it was destroying him slowly, he was still a hero and being a hero meant making sacrifices.

Emotional exhausted he entered his apartment, the pictures with his family and friends on the walls seemed to be mocking him with their cheerfulness. The sudden urge to destroy them cursed through his veins, yet he simply turned around, changing the once warmth atmosphere into a sterile coldness, if it hadn't been for the half eaten apple on the table the room could have passed as being for rent. He undressed and lied down, falling into a restless sleep.

"You did the right thing you know." said a smooth voice from the shadows, destroying the pleasant numbness of being half awake. Turning the little lamp on his desk on the speaker turned out to be Deathstroke the Terminator dressed as a normal civilian. Yet he didn't make a move to defend himself. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care about his own well-being...

"Yes coming from a high function sociopath this means so much to me", he said sarcastical, but instead of angering the older male he only got an amused smirk in return.

"Would you prefer my old sergeants words? 'sacrifices are a necessary evil, one life is nothing compared to the lives of your fellow soldiers, or the more poetic version the police 'Making an unpopular decision for the common good is the mark of a good police officer.

Dick froze, those words sounded good, he whole heartily agreed with them. Yet why of all the people had it do be Slade to understand him? "What is it to you?" he asked instead in a demanding tone, trying to ignore his own slightly confused feelings.

"Do you know what I think of heroes?" asked Slade in return, making Dick rather curious so he simply shook his head. " They are civilians playing dress up, none of them really understand the world out there. But you acted like a real soldier during the inversion, to be honest I've gained a certain amount of respect for you because of it while the others lost what little I had for them."

That was unexpected to say the least, "they are not weak", Dick started a bit weakly as Slade sharply cut in," they can't handle their own emotions so they punish the man who saved billions of lives, those ignorant backstabbing civilians are weak."

He winced not only because of the harsh words, but because a small part of him agreed, didn't the billions of lives he saved matter at all?

"Answer me one thing, do you regret your actions, actions which saved billions of lives fo the price of a few heroes who willing risked their lives everyday for their cause?"

Dick paused, he mourned what his actions had done for his social life, but no he didn't regret that he saved the world...  
The answer must have been written all over his face, because gave him a small pride filled smile.

"You are a soldier at heart boy, civilians shouldn't order you around or make you feel bad about yourself," the voice dropped into an almost hypnotic whisper," let me guide you and you will become great."

"I won't kill for you", he stated trying to sound much more convinced than he felt, this was the kindest conversation he had in weeks...

"I am not here because I agree with your ideals, I'm here because of your strength and I will be damned if I let the heroes destroy you."

Dick wanted to deny Slade's words, that the heroes weren't destroying him, that he was fine on his own, yet he couldn't form the words, couldn't convince his own mind to believe such lies.

"Can I think about your offer?", he asked instead. Slade nodded and left his apartment, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

Later that day he was in the tower, looking at the cold faces of his so-called friends, the words 'weak civilians' repeated themselves in his mind over and over...

Inhale 'weak', exhale 'civilian' , it was like with every breath he took Slade said those words again to him.

'Weak civilians'

He walked down the halls of the tower with a new self-confidence, he had saved the world hadn't he?

'Weak civilians'

Ignoring the dark looks or pointed show of looking away from him he continued on his path.

'Weak civilians'

Yes his methods might have been crude, but didn't he fight everyday with the knowledge it might kill him?

'Weak civilians'

And it would be an honour to die during a fight, that was the only respectable way for a hero to die wasn't it?

'Weak civilians'

He respected his fallen friends for their sacrifice.

'Weak civilians'

Weren't the other heroes with their behaviour almost disrespectful to their sacrifices, their death?

'Weak civilians'

People he once thought equal to gods, those he put on pedestals, trying but never actually expecting to become like them.

'Weak civilians'

With every breath he took those pedestals seemed to crumble...

'Weak civilians'

Yes, they were weak civilians, nothing more, nothing special...

'Weak civilians'

But as Slade said, they were just civilians, they didn't understand.

'Weak civilians'

He couldn't blame them for their ignorance either could he?

'Weak civilians'

If stupidity would be considered a crime, they wouldn't have enough prison cells. The thought brought an entertained smile to his lips, the look of disgust on Wally's face was simply ignored

'Weak civilians'

A hero shouldn't judge the behaviour of others if it didn't break a law.

'Weak civilians'

Strange how he seemed to be the only one to actually follow those rules...

'Weak civilians'

They let their emotions cloud their integrity as heroes didn't they?

'Weak civilians'

Yet he couldn't blame them for their weakness, what else could one expect from a bunch of civilians?

'Weak civilians'

They didn't have the spine to fight in a real battle.

'Weak civilians'

No as angry and hurt as he was, he wasn't one to let his emotions rule him, he wasn't so weak.

'Weak civilians'

Weakness was a civilian trait...

'Weak civilians'

So he simply smiled a small polite smile and hold his head high, clam self-confidence radiating from him like light from the sun.

'Weak civilians'

Disgusting.

If you asked Wally West to describe his former best friend in one word it would be the disgusting. Their friends were killed because of Nightwing and what did the man do? Smile like everything was alright in the world, as if it wasn't his fault that they were death...

Revolting.

How could Dick be so heartless, when had his friend become such a monster?

Slade smiled down at the younger male. It had been a week since his last visit and things were already changing. Previously Dick had seemed like a beaten dog, suffering through its owners actions with a smile, no matter what was done to him. Now he walked with a new self-awareness, reminding him of himself when he had been new in the army, when he life gained for the first time a purpose.

"I don't tolerate murderers in my city", stated the hero, ready to start a fight.

One week ago you wouldn't have struggled, would have welcomed death by my hand boy, he thought slightly amused. The new blood was always over-confident. It took a few beating to humble them, it had taken a few beatings to humble him...

"I am actually looking for a place to rest and Buldhaven does have his charms", he replied smoothly, "being a wanted man would be slightly contra productive so I would like to offer you a truce."

"A truce", repeated the hero, sounding more than a little wary, intelligent boy. "Tell my why should I agree to such a thing?"

Asked the boy wo gave everything for justice without a second thought, good he was gaining a sense of self-worth.

"Were do you train?" Slade asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Something dark flashed across the younger man's face, yes it couldn't be relaxing to train in an environment were most people hated you...

Instead of waiting for an answer he continued, "I have high standards for my personal training and with our truce in place you would be more than welcome to train there, too" , train with me, learn from me and a big sleeping-room for you will be there, too.

"It would be useful to learn more of your fighting style", Dick agreed slowly, making it sound as if it had been his own idea.


	2. Chapter 2

What is left he wondered as he paroled the city, his city, in search of a criminal, Dick needed to beat up someone badly. The others heroes reaction to him was so ... disillusioning.

When he had been a small child the heroes seemed like gods. Acrobats, performers just like him and his family, but with their act they made a change, made the world better place with more than a few tricks to entertain the crowed. Becoming one of them had been a dream come true. How carefull he had been to avoid bruising in the obvious places to avoid concerned teachers and curious reporters. The hard training and keeping his grades up to Bruce's standard, getting respect as first child hero.  
Everything seemed so small compared to becoming one of them.

Now his world was changing, he felt like a small child which just learned that Santa Claus wasn't real. He was starting to question them, question himself, and the only one offering to listen and provide answers was Slade...

Well it couldn't hurt to learn where Slade lived could it? What equipment the man used and how he trained, every information could be written in the man's profile. Convinced by his own arguments he decided to give Slade a chance...

Wally looked around the empty gym, normally he would use this time to train with Dick. Despite his own hurt feelings and Dick being well a dick, he still missed his best friend...

Bruce closed with a tired sign his eyes. The hero, the Bat understood Dick actions, would have done the same thing. However Bruce couldn't help being scared of what was his oldest son becoming. Dick had always seemed to be unaffected by the harsh teachings of the Bat. Had he misjudged his own child to such an extent? For as much as he loved Tim, the young boy hadn't watched his parents die. Dick had always been more than his child, he was/is his equal. If Dick changed what did that mean for him?

The simple truth was that he just didn't know how to handle the situation, so he tried to ignore it. Once the feelings calmed down everything would ge back to normal. Dick was going to make stupid jokes and fight along him, after all this wasn't the first time a hero made a mistake, it will be forgotten in no time...

Slade smirked down at the short text message, Dick had agreed to train with him. Wintergreen would have to make sure the safe house was ready, he had an appointment with Lex Luthor. He needed to establish Buldhaven including its hero as his property, it wouldn't be for some stupid villian to take the chance to attack Nightwing, call another hero in the city and give them time to rediscover their relationship. No if everything went his way than their next conversation was going to be after Dick changed his name and costume as proof of his loyalty to him...

Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair, the day promised to be interesting...

Under normal circumstance an appointment with Slade Wilson was a rather simple matter. The man was one of the best in his field, a more than competent employee, one to be hired when needed for a rather delicate situation. He wasn't cheap, but quality came with a price that was not the problem. Yet it wasn't him, Lex Luthor, who wanted the meeting but Deathstroke, which created the question why? Men like Wilson, men like himself, fought their own battles, asking for help was like admitting defeat to them, so a fight should be out of question. As for his technology it was brilliant, yes, but there was little one couldn't buy and he really couldn't image Deathstroke having financial problems. The thought alone seemed absurd. Of course someone wanting him dead and getting Wilson for the job was a possibility, yet he had enough money to make the man reconsider and kill his first employer, it wouldn't be the first time something like this happened with the mercenary involved. A certain royal family was proof for that.  
In conclusion he couldn't think of anything Wilson might want of him or his help for a rather disorienting feeling, how some people claimed that ignorance was bliss was beyond him.

"Mr. Wilson has arrived", sounded the voice from his secretary, a sweet looking asian woman who could kill a man within 5 seconds, a man had to keep standards hadn't he? He dismissed the idea of letting Wilson wait, until he had reason to act otherwise it was the best to keep the man in his good graces. Straightening his spin he sat with a perfect posture in his chair, that he didn't believe the man was about to become an enemy didn't mean he could show weakness either.

Slade entered, dressed in an expensive suit and a fake matching grey eye where normally sat the black eye patch. He could have easily slipped in a crowed of businessman and wouldn't leave a lasting impression, it also told Luthor that whatever was to be discussed valued secrecy while making the possibility of an assassination attempt less likely. Deathstroke had a certain honour, attacking without giving his prey a chance just wasn't his style.

They nodded in greeting and Slade sat down, "if you don't mind my schedule his rather full these days, so lets skip the pleasantries," started the mercenary smoothly. Lex's mind was racing what event could value so much of the mercenary's time? The lack of answers was infuriating, so he forced a polite smile and nodded.

"Inofficial official the city Buldhaven is my territory," stated the man, explaining nothing to Luthor. It wasn't like he would challenge his claim, the city was hatchery for criminals nothing more. And even this aspect was weakening, the former partner of Batman was making the place less welcoming and even motivated a few of the cops to become honest, leading to an interesting question.

"I do believe the oldest son of the Bat has already staked a claim," he replied, Deathstroke wasn't about to kill Nightwing was he? It would be a declaration of war to the older heroes, no matter what childish little dispute they had currently about which methods were okay to safe the world. How anyone could admire people who fought about such a thing, mindless sheep. Yet if he was, he would become the enemy number one, giving people like him a golden opportunity to plot, maybe even to destroy the heroes completely...

"My claim includes the live and well-being of Nightwing, his actions have shown an intelligence and willingness to fight superior to the other heroes. The young man has potential I believe to be wasted in his current social circle," Slade's voice was didn't leave room to question the claim. Yet Luthor wasn't convinced. Sacrificing a few pawns to win a game was hardly a sign for intelligence in his eyes. Wars had been fought like this for centuries, it had been slightly surprising that a hero would do such a thing, yet the smartest child in class for children with special needs was still no future Noble laureate. Furthermore as much information as the young hero had, he really couldn't see him betraying his family and friends.

"You want to turn him into a mercenary?", he asked to clarify, saying it out loud made it sound more like something the Joker would do, was Deathstroke loosing his edge? Or worse, was the high function sociopath becoming a simple psychopath? Who could he hire to terminate the Terminator?

"I'm taking an interest in his skills, he already to agreed to train with me", was the smug reply. His careful posture of polite interest was lost for a moment, this couldn't be true could it? Yet why would Wilson lie about such a thing?

A smirk hushed over Slade's lips, causing him to reach instinctively for the emergency alarm. "The necessary sacrifice he made isn't something the heroes seem to understand, making him question the adults he had come to worship since a very early age. No matter which decisions he is going to make, the path is more than interesting to me, honestly he reminds me a little of myself." No there was nothing insane in Slade's words or actions as far as he could discern. Had the young hero really so much potential? Could the young male become more than a multicoloured copy of the Bat with bad jokes?

"What exactly is my place in your plans?", he asked instead, his mind starting to reëxamine every fact he had about Nightwing.

"I would appreciate if the word spread that any villain of a certain caliber deciding to visit Buldhaven will die a very painful death. Nightwing has still strong bonds to the other heroes and it wouldn't do for them to reconnect during a battle." This sounded like a very careful thought of plan, no delusions just plain facts, lord if Deathstroke really could get Nightwing to betray his friends and family? Was there any hero the golden child didn't have a connection and knowledge of? Image Superman being sold out by his beloved nephew...

"I assure you will get time for your experiment", he said in his best charming politician voice. It seemed as if he just gained a new source of entertainment, either watching a hero fall from grace or seeing the almighty Deathstroke fail...


	3. Chapter 3

Slade looked around his new home.

Two floors and a big garden with many trees near a forest, perfect for someone to enter and escape with the skills to use the trees as path. From the outside the Manor looked expansive, but not alluring enough to possible thieves. Really if one didn't want the stereotypical warehouse a house, carefully balanced between wealth and poverty, was needed. One couldn't boast, it would attract lower criminals searching for a way to proof themselves, nor be to modest, as this would be considered a sign of weakness. The heroes never seemed to realise just how much the chosen base told about the criminal in question, a pathetic display of their mental skills or rather lack there off, giving the hunter in him the desire to just shot them to put them out of their misery. Yet Nightwing already proved himself to be superior in this skill set compared to them, for the powerless boy it had been a matter of survival to learn how to use the terrain to his advantage. Now a days he managed to track the villains down, not with the obscure technology Luthor and Wayne were so depended off, but through pure experience and instinct, following leads from careless criminals like a predator followed its sense of smell.

Sometimes he wondered why he was the only one to see his skills, most of the heroes had powers at their disposal, even the Bat had money and servants to help him. Yet here in Buldhaven Nightwing had neither and still managed to not only hold their level, but surpass them.

His boy was growing up no question about it, already changing without his interference thanks to this god forsaken city. Back in Jump City he had betrayed the people he sworn to protect to save his friends, a flaw which almost made him give up on his first choice of apprentice, it seemed impossible to destroy the loyalty the boy had without destroying something too fundamental in him. A broken shell was useless and he wasn't a temper tantrum throwing child, destroying something just because it didn't work how he wanted was below him. However Buldhaven and being on his own most of the time had changed him, forced him to adapt, to grow up. It had been truly beautiful to watch, proving every hope he had for the young male to be true, yet it also brought him despair. How could he remove the golden child from the spot light? Dick had been very popular as hero and civilian, some of the younger heroes would stay at his place to recover, looking up to him and asking for guidance while the older looked after him their first and, with most of them, favourite child. It had been torture, plain and simple torture, to see the thing he wanted most, a worthy student to teach, an equal to be his companion, an enemy deserving the title and posing a challenge, someone to spent his immortal life with, just out of his reach. There was a mythos of hell similar to his situation, where people starved bound to a place and trees with full apples around them, the smell and view of the ripe objects torturing them worse than physical pain ever could. Watching Nightwing prowl the city, but unable to blackmail him into submission without starting a war with the hero community, had given him a very good idea how they felt.

Yet he waited. lurked in the shadows for an opportunity, once he even played with the idea of letting a lesser criminal disable the hero and offer a weaker form of the serum that changed him as cure, however Oracle, the former Batgirl, already went such a path and still worked as hero. The probability that Nightwing would follow her way was to high and would also take the pleasure of fighting the younger male from him, a possibility he wasn't willing to risk. In took some time but his patience finally had a result, the heroes ignorance of a real battle combined with Nightwing's changing view of the world and hardening character, presented him with a perfect opportunity. A battle gone slightly wrong made the them turn against him as they needed a scapegoat for their own pain.

His own interference was like poison in an open wound, it gave Nightwing a new view of himself and created a cold air of self-righteousness around him which should keep the other heroes at a distance. As long as they didn't realise that Dick was actually hurting they would stay away, believing him to be a heartless, hollow robot and give him time to work with his emotional side. Appearing like the only actually caring person gave him a unique power over the orphan. The fear of losing the last person willing to care about him would keep his mind open for arguments, making him willing to at least think about his words instead of dismissing them blindly.

A trip to the circus was also planned in the future, nothing like the friends of his dead parents assuring Dick that he was doing the right thing. Dead people couldn't speak and living could be bribed or threatened if necessary to give a nice darker story of survival in which his parents were supportive of the taken actions...

For now the well equiped gym should keep Dick entertained and challenging the boy during their training would secure that he worked until he reached his limits, turning the coincidentally guest room next to the gym into Dick's new bedroom, a soon to be permanent arrangement.

Nightwing looked at the house. A simple two-floor house with a big untamed garden in an unobtrusive colour scheme. If he didn't now that Slade lived here he would have passed the building without a second glance.

On an objective level he acknowledged that he shouldn't think less of himself for it, Deathstroke the Terminator was one of the first generation villains and even among them respected. He was proud of his skills yes, but he wasn't blinded by his pride. He was aware that he would lose if the man really wanted to defeat him, that it might be trap and nobody would come for him. Maybe after a few weeks without him active in the city one hero would get annoyed enough and search for him, too late to help, but at least able to make sure he got a respectable funeral. Or maybe he should inform the older heroes of Deathstroke's new liar and plan an ambush. Get the dangerous criminal behind bars and be done with him, plain and simple. To go to Slade behind their backs, didn't they already think of him as a monster? Wasn't he about to confirm their harsh judgement by accepting Slade's offer?

Yet here he was, about to enter his home not as a hero but as a man seeking knowledge and power by an older more experienced male. Yet it wasn't even about power was it? Slade wasn't the only one stronger than him, finding a material arts master and taking lessons was something he could do as a civilian. He just would have to claim it was for self-defence, end of the story. No it wasn't so easy. The truth was he was here for conversation, Slade claimed to understand him and even, hopefully, if it wasn't the case, there still would be someone to talk to. If it led to arguing all the better, wouldn't it proof that he was no monster? Wouldn't it proof that he might be on a line, but didn't actually cross it? Yes, entering the devil's liar with the intention to pick a fight seemed a little desperate, yet since he couldn't get the heroes to agree with him, getting a murderer to disagree would have to do. It was in the end the same wasn't it?

And if he actually agreed with Slade? Well making a life decision at the age of eight did seem a little rash in retrospective...

Lex Luthor was annoyed.

Getting information about the Bat's oldest brat seemed easy enough at first, the child had been in the spot light since the first moment he worn those hideous green panties. Yet the reporters of Jump City weren't nearly as interested in the fights than those from Gotham. Instead they had such ridiculous topics like Starfire discovering human things, making the little alien seem like a nice tourist, revolting. Beastboy and Cyborg were treated similar, they made comments of video games, was their tower financed by a game developer? Possible, but not a real matter of interest. Both Raven and Robin kept to themselves, speaking only when necessary. There were seemingly no sceptical politicians, in a word the heroes were trusted.

He would have to do some research on his own, maybe even getting in contact with some of the villains...


	4. Chapter 4

Nightwing was tired, it was becoming harder and harder to get up in the morning and face the world. On an objective level he knew what was going on, his friends were hurting from the pain of the loose they suffered. It was natural to make him into the scapegoat and turn their grieve into anger directed at him. So he smiled acted as if everything was alright, as if their looks and words had no effect on him, because that was what they needed. Even though it was destroying him slowly, he was still a hero and being a hero meant making sacrifices.

Emotional exhausted he entered his apartment, the pictures with his family and friends on the walls seemed to be mocking him with their cheerfulness. The sudden urge to destroy them cursed through his veins, yet he simply turned around, changing the once warmth atmosphere into a sterile coldness, if it hadn't been for the half eaten apple on the table the room could have passed as being for rent. He undressed and lied down, falling into a restless sleep.

"You did the right thing you know." said a smooth voice from the shadows, destroying the pleasant numbness of being half awake. Turning the little lamp on his desk on the speaker turned out to be Deathstroke the Terminator dressed as a normal civilian. Yet he didn't make a move to defend himself. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care about his own well-being...

"Yes coming from a high function sociopath this means so much to me", he said sarcastical, but instead of angering the older male he only got an amused smirk in return.

"Would you prefer my old sergeants words? 'sacrifices are a necessary evil, one life is nothing compared to the lives of your fellow soldiers, or the more poetic version the police 'Making an unpopular decision for the common good is the mark of a good police officer.

Dick froze, those words sounded good, he whole heartily agreed with them. Yet why of all the people had it do be Slade to understand him? "What is it to you?" he asked instead in a demanding tone, trying to ignore his own slightly confused feelings.

"Do you know what I think of heroes?" asked Slade in return, making Dick rather curious so he simply shook his head. " They are civilians playing dress up, none of them really understand the world out there. But you acted like a real soldier during the inversion, to be honest I've gained a certain amount of respect for you because of it while the others lost what little I had for them."

That was unexpected to say the least, "they are not weak", Dick started a bit weakly as Slade sharply cut in," they can't handle their own emotions so they punish the man who saved billions of lives, those ignorant backstabbing civilians are weak."

He winced not only because of the harsh words, but because a small part of him agreed, didn't the billions of lives he saved matter at all?

"Answer me one thing, do you regret your actions, actions which saved billions of lives fo the price of a few heroes who willing risked their lives everyday for their cause?"

Dick paused, he mourned what his actions had done for his social life, but no he didn't regret that he saved the world...  
The answer must have been written all over his face, because gave him a small pride filled smile.

"You are a soldier at heart boy, civilians shouldn't order you around or make you feel bad about yourself," the voice dropped into an almost hypnotic whisper," let me guide you and you will become great."

"I won't kill for you", he stated trying to sound much more convinced than he felt, this was the kindest conversation he had in weeks...

"I am not here because I agree with your ideals, I'm here because of your strength and I will be damned if I let the heroes destroy you."

Dick wanted to deny Slade's words, that the heroes weren't destroying him, that he was fine on his own, yet he couldn't form the words, couldn't convince his own mind to believe such lies.

"Can I think about your offer?", he asked instead. Slade nodded and left his apartment, leaving him alone to his thoughts.


End file.
